Ultraman Brotein Gaiden: The Bloodstained Circus Star, Betelgeuse!
Chapter 1: I Am Trash Hello, my dear friend. If you are reading this, I’m very glad for you. After all, just the mere fact that you have decided to pick up this brochure and read past the first sentence without tossing it away already speaks volumes about you. No. “Speaks” is a pathetic understatement that miserably fails to do you honor. It screams. It screams that you are serious. You are a person with a burning fighting spirit and an unquenchable thirst for constant self-improvement. You crave success. You hunger for it. Within your soul swirls a voracious black hole that can only be quenched by the glorious light of victory. Before we proceed, I’d like you to do me a little favor, okay? Don’t worry, it won’t take much time out of your day. I understand that you’re a very busy individual, after all. Answer this one simple question with as much honesty as you can muster. You ready? GO! Are you doing well right now? No? Thought so. But that’s okay, I understand. In this day and age, living a miserable day-to-day slog is more of the norm than the exception. Let me guess, you’re toiling in the gavanite mines of Sebus, rotting your life away in the suffocating murk of those tunnels that threaten to cave in every time you draw breath? Or are you one of Dingior’s servants, doomed to toil for that fetid abomination’s twisted whims until he decides that you’ve served your purpose and crushes you between the buttocks of his sopping posterior? Or perhaps you are a space bandit, shedding blood and putting your life on the line every day to wrestle away scraps from the marginally more miserable creatures? Either way, let’s be real here…It’s clear as day that your life utterly stinks. But what if I told you that you don’t have to suffer this way? In fact, how about this? Your life could become much better in a matter of hours. All by the virtue of one simple mental exercise! I’ve piqued your curiosity, haven’t I? Great! Now listen carefully. First, I want you to realize that one’s capacity of enduring discomfort (I suspect you may have already heard about this quality of character in much more pedantic terms – be it strength of will, or grit, or tenacity – but I digress) is like a muscle. With use, it fatigues. With rest, it is rejuvenated. And, given sufficient stimulation over a period of time, it is capable of growing stronger. Considering just how much misery you have to contend with in your everyday life, I trust that your discomfort-enduring muscle is sufficiently built up. Good. Because, as simple as the following mental exercise is, it’s far from being easy or comfortable for you. My dear friend, you’re going to have to flex that muscle of yours with everything you have, and maybe even a little bit more. The enemy you’re going to have to wage an all-out war against is your own ego, after all! But fear not! It’s all going to be worth it in the end, I assure you! So please, quash those pesky feelings of self-doubt as soon as they start to bubble up from within you! Oh, I know! A few positive affirmations should do the trick! Ready? Repeat after me, my dear friend! “I can do it!” “I am strong enough!” “I will succeed!” “My efforts will pay off!” Feel better? Awesome! You’re doing great! Now, without further ado, let’s get to the exercise itself! Listen carefully. Tomorrow, as soon as you wake up – one’s willpower stores are at their fullest in the morning, after all, - I want you to look in the mirror (if such a luxury is beyond your financial capabilities, do not fret - any other reflective surface will do!). I want you to really stare into that mirror. Look yourself straight in the eyes (or whatever other sensory organ you possess in their place). And then, I want you to accept one thing about yourself – deeply, wholeheartedly accept it. Absorb this one essential truth into your soul no matter how hard your ego - that fragile, fickle, primitive part of your mind – tries to resist it. You are trash. Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Whoa there, what the hell is this?” I can practically hear your indignant sputtering right now. You may think “What was the point of all these positive affirmations, all that talk about how strong and capable I am, if the whole point of this guy’s message is to convince me that I’m trash?” “Is this some kind of sick joke?” Hell, you might even throw out this brochure without caring to finish it. But that’s okay. Nobody is forcing you to read it anyway. Toss it if you must. Every instrument and method has a margin of error, and that includes my judgement on whether you have what it takes to achieve success. You just happened to fall within that margin, that’s all… … Still here? Awesome! =^_^= The following message is for those who have stayed. Those who have quashed the lamentations of their egos and truly committed to improving their lives. Congratulations! You have proved yourselves worthy of reaping the true reward of your struggles! Now, you may ask, what does accepting that you’re trash have to do with achieving success? It’s quite simple, actually. Destiny is real. Whether we like it or not, our lives proceed in accordance with a pre-determined, implacable fate. Up until this point, you may have believed that if you work hard enough, endure for long enough, you will be able to take your life into your own hands, and change that pesky fate of yours. Nice try, but no dice. You can’t just up and change your destiny. Life just doesn’t work like that. The sooner you accept that, the better. The fact that up until this moment you still haven’t been able to dig yourself out of the hole life has thrown you into is proof enough. So now you’ve got the basics down – you have a destiny, and it cannot be changed no matter what. Now let’s dig into this subject a little deeper. You ready? You see, in this world there’s two kinds of people, my friend. Those who dig the holes, and those who flounder at the bottom. The Luminaries, and the Trash. These are the roles that destiny assigns us the second we are brought into this world. I am a Luminary. As soon as I emerged from my mother’s womb, fate chose me to serve as the living embodiment of success. You are Trash. Born to serve the Luminaries until the day you draw your last breath. But guess what? So are Sebus, and Dingior, and Pharamant, and all those other blithering warlords that only know how to spread needless violence and bloodshed. Little do they know that they, too, are merely floundering at the bottom of a hole. It is simply a bigger hole. Indeed, nothing is more pathetic than the futile struggle of Trash trying to force their way into the ranks of Luminaries. But you, my friend, are different. Having accepted your fate, you have already leapt miles ahead of those pitiful wretches. You see, being Trash does not mean you are incapable of achieving success. Quite the contrary! Sure, your fate is to flounder at the bottom of a hole for the rest of your days. But by joining me, a Luminary, you can grasp a unique opportunity. The opportunity to flounder at the bottom of a golden hole encrusted with diamonds, with lesser Trash who have rejected my call catering to your desires. Our slogan isn’t 'There’s more to a good weapon than the materials it’s crafted from!' for nothing. Fools’ Tools Inc. is not looking for geniuses or superheroes. We have enough of those on board already, trust me! Just having a head on your shoulders and a fire in your heart is good enough. On-the-job training provided by our finest specialists will take care of the rest. When there’s a will, there’s a way, after all! Congratulations, my friend! The very fact that you have managed to make it to the end of this brochure means that you have already completed the basic hiring requirements for Fools’ Tools Inc! Now listen. Only one last step remains on your journey towards dramatically improving your life! At the very bottom of this last page you will find a tiny bump. By pressing it, you will be teleported directly into our headquarters on Planet Smōōg, where a certified Alien Resources Recruiter will conduct an interview and assign you a role at our company according to your specific skillset! Go ahead, just press it right now! Your current employer (or conqueror) does not have to know any of this! Oh, one more thing. Just because entrance into the HQ of Fools’ Tools Inc. can be achieved by the mere press of a button, doesn’t mean that we are in any way lax in the security department! So, just in case you’re planning some kind of funny business (or, perchance, if this brochure has accidentally fallen into the hands of one of the previously mentioned trash-warlords), I want you to know that the HQ is guarded by a troop of specially trained Zettons. Trust me pal, it’s not worth it! Best of luck to you, my friend! I hope you have it in you to make the right decision! Sincerely yours, CEO of Fools’ Tools Inc. Mr. H. "Well well well, what do we have here? It's another one of those f*cking booklets!" Mr. H's brochure is snapped shut, and then crumpled with such force that the coating of orange artificial fur on its exterior catches fire. Sparks dance amidst the pallid dawn of a tiny cold moon, tongues of flame bursting from between the gleaming spikes adorning the knuckles of a heavy pandemonium-studded glove. "For the love of f*ck, it's like every asteroid here is overflowing with those damned things! At this point I might as well become this galaxy's greatest motherf*cking weather reporter! Hello citizens, today's weather is, as always, cloudy with a chance of BULLSH*T!!!" An exasperated kick smashes into an ancient volcanic cone, and, cleaved off its foundation, it is sent hurtling right through the moon's meager atmosphere. "Ragediya Galaxy, huh?" a lone Ultra Warrior thinks to himself as he takes to the skies, "Uuuuuugh...I'm beginning to hate this place already!" Chapter 2: The Miracle Morning of A Highly Effective Cyborg The Luminary’s morning does not start with an alarm. His awakening is calm, refreshing and, mechanical intervention notwithstanding, seamlessly natural, the pulses emitted by the circadian rhythm pacemaker anchored to the inside of his skull gently massaging the nuclei of his hypothalamus into alertness. And, with all sleep cycles completed and all dreams seen through to the end uninterrupted, he is set to begin his day on a note of deep satisfaction. As he sits up in his luxurious king-size bed, the Luminary feels his hand reflectively rise to his mouth, and he chuckles to himself – old habits die hard. Thanks to the wonders of automated homeostasis, he has long since forgotten the sensation of the urge to yawn. With a snap of clawed digits, the curtains - garishly decorated with orange fur - slide apart to let in the first rays of Planet Smōōg’s sunrise. The Luminary swings his legs over the side of the bed and rises, stretching out to his full fifty-five-meter height with a satisfied sigh. There is no grogginess in his gait, or stiffness in his long limbs as he strolls over to the kitchen cabinet and pulls out a pitcher of milky beige liquid. “Ah, good old Galient! Nothing beats this nutritionally complete elixir of productivity!” he muses to himself, watching the milky beige liquid swirl within its container. “It’s hard to believe that something this flawless has been invented in this crapsack of a galaxy!” Today, the Luminary decides that he’s going to program the Galient into tasting like poached Bemstar eggs. And, with a few quick strokes on the keyboard built into the side of the pitcher, he does just that. “What a lovely morning!” the Luminary thinks, bathed in the marigold light of dawn, as he sits down by the window, at a table carved from the finest Jagira wood, blissfully sipping on his tall glass of breakfast. Three minutes have barely passed since his awakening, but he already looks - and feels - fully prepared to tackle the day. The home gym next to his bedroom, where he used to spend hours sculpting his body with weight machines and tirelessly honing his skill in hand to hand combat against robotic practice dummies, has been rusting from disuse for months and is soon to be repurposed into a supply closet, yet the power overflowing within him has never been greater. Not a single crease mars his pristine grey suit, despite the fact that the same suit has also served as his pyjamas for the night. His fur is soft and glossy, and his fangs are gleaming white, but he doesn’t remember the last time he’s showered or brushed his teeth -his augmented physiology has allowed him to transcend the typical civilized creature’s dependence on personal hygiene. Dirt, grime and bacteria are no longer waste to dispose of, but rather a valuable source of renewable energy for the countless nanomachines bustling about within every inch of his body. Having finished his leisurely breakfast, the Luminary gets up, dumps the empty Galient glass into the dishwasher, snatches a datapad and a thermos filled with more Galient (this time programmed to taste like a yoghurt parfait) from a nearby shelf and, whistling a merry melody from his home planet, makes his way to the crystalline orb-shaped elevator that leads to the office complex of Fools’ Tools Inc. “Wheeeeeeeeeee!” the Luminary yells gleefully, as the elevator orb accelerates to breakneck speeds, hurtling off steep ramps and through coils of winding tubes. Building the habit of associating his work with fun is integral for his success, after all, and making the trip to his office one of the favorite parts of his day by turning his elevator into a rollercoaster accomplishes that flawlessly. The Luminary allows himself a good five minutes of wholesome fun before the elevator orb finally skids to a halt, and a slip-n-slide launches the Luminary from the elevator straight into his office chair. The Luminary cracks his knuckles and grins. He feels on top of the world. It’s in moments like these that he appreciates the wonders of Pedanian technology the most. Being a cyborg rules. Category:TheMoonShard Category:Ultraman Leg continuity Category:Ultraman Leg side stories Category:Ultraman Leg episodes